The Spire, once a sanctuary, now felt like a gilded cage under siege. The enemy was not at the gates; it was in the nursery, whispering lies in a voice only a child could hear, twisting her greatest gift into a weapon. Seraphina moved through the days with a hyper-vigilant awareness, every smile from Luna feeling fragile, every quiet moment pregnant with the threat of the next "lesson" from the shadow within.
She found herself in the Spire's highest garden, a place that usually brought her peace. Below, the city of London stretched out, blissfully unaware of the cosmic war brewing in its midst. Here, among the softly glowing flora and the hum of contained life, the weight of her decision felt heaviest.
